The Coffin
by Essande
Summary: Sometimes prophesy isn't enough to save you, sometimes your mind isn't strong enough...and when the time comes sometimes it's best to just accept.


Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights and its expansions are property of Bioware.

Author's Note: Yeah! My muse is back thanks to the songs "Probably Wouldn't Be This Way" by Leann Rimes and "Torn" by Natlie Imburglia. (No this isn't a song fic I find song fics have no story to them and that if a prose relies too heavily on lyrics to a song not everyone will know then it does not reach as many people.) This is another one of those What Ifs I've been doing.

This time in the Underdark seeing as most fics in this expansion setting have a female hero, mine is male. Secondly, all heroes/heroines seem to be hunky dory about suddenly popping into a place they've never been to. Everyone just keeps a calm head and goes on their merry way, is used to the darkness and close quarters…it's not that easy… (Insanity, thou art mine closest companion.)

**The Coffin**

The sudden darkness, the voices around him, the swimming sensation of the sudden teleportation, the crawling feeling over his skin from the geas and the heavy blood loss from several wounds weren't what was causing Silva's knees to buckle as he blindly reached for Nathyrra's shoulder for support. The half-elven ranger let his eyes slip into infravision, the green of them taken on an emerald glow. The noise had quieted and another drow female was in front of him…Silva watched her lips move as she greeted Nathyrra, the assassin bowing her head instead of curtsying as not to set Silva off. Nathyrra's voice seemed to echo off the walls and the noise made Silva groan softly, bowing his head to stare at the floor.

The weight of the ceiling was urging him to meet that cold stone floor…an uninteresting gray that swirled in his vision. The mists of Limbo came briefly to mind as Silva felt his hand slip from Nathyrra's shoulder and he was suddenly kneeling on the ground. Deekin's voice cut through the other two that sounded, ringing in his ears. The only clear word Silva heard as his muscles gave up on him and his vision faded to black.

"Boss?"

"Boss? Deekin thinks Boss should wake up now." Silva groaned, as he opened his eyes the suddenness of seeing heat patterns he was unused to causing his vision to dance. Pushing mouse brown hair from his face the ranger tried again, blinking several times. Deekin was sitting on a stool next to the bed the half-elf was in, the kobold's lute neatly on his lap. "Oh, you awake… Drow lady wanted Deekin to tells her when you awake." The bard informed Silva as he slipped off the stool, keeping his eyes in contact with the ranger.

"Deekin." The word was soft but Deekin stilled waiting for the half-elf to sit up. "Deekin…I wanna check—do you feel that?" The kobold looked around and then stared at Silva confused.

"Feel what?"

"That…that weight! Gods it's crushing me I—" Silva paused, his eyes growing wide as he just stared at the wall. He had felt the weight above him so acutely now that the sky was gone but what he hadn't noticed was the walls, slowing moving towards him at such a speed only he would notice it.

"Boss?" Concern was heavy in the kobold's voice as he reached out to place a scaled hand on Silva's knee. The half-elf's entire body seemed to be shaking and at some point Silva's arms had wrapped around his lithe form. "Boss?" Deekin couldn't help but think for a fleeting moment how small and childlike the half-elf looked at that moment. Deekin applied pressure to the ranger's knee to get his attention but he just kept staring at the wall in front of him. At that point panic began to rise in the kobold's chest. He tried calling to his boss a few more times but save for trembling Silva was unresponsive. Racing from the room Deekin went to find the drow lady that had brought them here, missing the words that came in a sudden bout of laughter from Silva.

"I can't breathe! I'm going to die!" He found it hilarious. The crushing ceiling above him and the walls slowly closing in…oxygen becoming more and more precious as the room grew smaller and Silva couldn't help but think that by the time Deekin came back he'd be in a coffin. That would save time and they wouldn't have to bury him because he was already underground. Silva fell back harshly on the bed, still laughing. Several of his wounds reopened with this action but Silva couldn't have given a damn at that moment. He was going to be crushed or suffocate, what difference would it make?

Then it hit Silva and suddenly the laughing stopped. He was going to die. He looked up at the ceiling that threatened to fall any moment. Turning his head Silva noticed the walls had come closer a foot or so, the sound of stone grinding against stone growing louder in his ears. Tiny chips and fragments of rock littered the gray floor, vibrating against it as the walls moved. Silva's breath had become paced in a way that an on looker would know was forced as he tried to conserve air. So this was how he was going to leave this world…

"Silva?" Nathyrra's voice cut through the thinning air, steadying the heavy ceiling and slamming the walls back into their rightful places. The floor became free of pebbles and air became abundant once again. "Silva!" This time the worry originally in the drow's voice was replaced with annoyance. First the male flipped out his companion and then he opens his wounds all without leaving the confines of the bed they had provided him when he collapsed in the prayer room.

"Is Boss okay?" Deekin asked peeking around the assassin at the figure on the bed. Silva was staring in shock at the walls, only barely aware of the pair's presence in the room.

"And _he's_ going to save us all?" Nathyrra looked up from Silva as she had been going over what he had done to himself. A red haired tiefling leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Nathyrra just sighed and shook her head.

"It's just shock I'm sure. You should have more faith in the Seer Valen." She said, sitting Silva up like one would a child. And he did seem like a child as he absently pulled at his left sleeve his lips moving, forming silent words like a youngster trying to remember something.

"What happened to the walls?" At this the tiefling, Valen, cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Deekin for a clue as to what that meant. Deekin was appraising the scene before him with a confused look on his face and didn't seem to notice that for a brief moment Valen's blue eyes had been on him.

"What does that mean, 'What happened to the walls'?" Valen asked, the question directed at Nathyrra. She shrugged, stepping back thoughtfully and noting that damage was minimum. She turned to the weaponmaster, frowning.

"How should I know? Would it kill you to acknowledge him at least?"

"I was not with you when you were collecting him I had thought it had to do with those events." The tiefling snapped back. It was a logical assumption as the half-elf and his reptilian companion had only been in the Underdark a few hours…hours being wasted by the ranger's catatonic state.

"Closer…closer…closer…" All eyes turned to the half-elf who was now hugging his knees, rocking back and forth and murmuring the words as if trying to recall the tune to a song. Both Nathyrra and Valen glanced around the room looking for something out of place on the stone but nothing was amiss.

"Boss went crazy like man upstairs." Deekin said, his voice seeming louder than it was over the soft humming Silva had taken to. The humming stopped.

"The geas…if not the walls, if not the blood, if not the lack of air and if the ceiling doesn't fall then the geas kills me here." The words were said in a cheerful voice, a tune playing on every syllable like that of a children's rhyme as they played on the streets.

"The kobold has a point, think about it even I'm not used to the weight above us. He's partly elven, it must be playing tricks on his mind." Nathyrra shook her head, sitting in the stool Deekin had long since abandoned.

"So, what does this mean? The Seer was wrong? Or that we should resign ourselves to die fighting against the Valsharess?" The drow sighed and then looked over at Valen fully expecting to see a smirk on his pale features. There wasn't one. The tiefling opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Silva who was staring intently at the seam between the far wall and the roof.

"Falling down…" On impulse the three other occupants in the room looked up at the ceiling but saw nothing. Silva noticed this and smiled to himself, they didn't see what he saw; hear what he heard. Cracks were beginning to form as the walls shuddered under the strain of the solid rock the supported, once again small pieces of stone found a home on a vibrating floor.

"Maybe if we leaves and comes back Boss will be normal?" Deekin suggested, already creeping towards the exit. Silva was beginning to freak him out. Nathyrra stood, shrugging.

"What else can we do?" She reasoned as the trio left. Silva smiled after them, it was better this way. Coffins weren't meant to be shared. A resounding crack echoed through the room as the wall nearest him was scarred by the shear pressure on it. He was going to die. It wasn't a joke, it wasn't a sad thing…it was life. There were so many things against him anyway. Silva laughed to himself, thinking all the while as the walls began to crumble, "At least it will be quick."


End file.
